


Wasted Apologies- Smornby

by levviewrites909



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Medication, Slight fluff, Suicide, mostly angst, smornby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levviewrites909/pseuds/levviewrites909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just too much for both of them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted Apologies- Smornby

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to put notes at beginning to warn you guys. Seriously angsty with suicide and violence. I am so sorry for doing this on Valentine's Day there is something wrong with me... idefk. It's going to be out on tumblr tomorrow. Also: I suggest listening to Broadripple is Buring by Margot & the Nuclear So & So's. It fits very well.

Ross sobbed quietly, sitting in the dark room of this dingy motel in God knows where. He laid flat on the hard mattress, his belly up towards the ceiling and his long limbs hanging off the sides of the bed. He was a mess, his eyes red and puffy from sobbing and his clothing reeking of alcohol that wasn’t even from himself.

Wet tears ran onto his cheeks, sliding down his face and neck onto his shirt, dampening the fabric and making it stick to his skin. The rain outside pounded on the window, a somewhat relaxing sound, yet also a reminder of how empty and alone he was at that moment.

He held back his screams, the screams he wanted to let out until his throat was dry and sore and he couldn’t breath. So much anger and frustration bottled up inside. He made the mistake of letting some of it out just hours before, made the mistake of letting it all come out in front of his boyfriend- his bastard of a boyfriend who came home late once again smelling of whiskey and cheap perfume.

Ross turned over with a whimper, remembering the initial shock of seeing the lipstick smeared on his stubbled neck. He groaned into the dusty bedsheets, allowing his tears to soak into the comforter.

He tried for so long to tell him that it was for the best, that staying in the relationship would just lead to more and more alcohol and cheating induced arguments, ones that got to the point of both of them holding back the urge to fight each other.

It was so hard though, knowing that Alex was home all alone. Knowing that he was moping around the apartment like a sad drunk, sobbing and feeling pitiful of himself, confused and alone. He thought about the sad pout on his lips as he begged for Ross to come back, calling his name with tears running down his face into his beard.

Ross groaned, throwing his fist angrily against the bed.

“FUCK.”

He stood up angrily, grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it against the wall with as much strength as he can muster, fueled with the built up emotions from their relationship, from their toxic relationship that seemed to be poisoning both of them. It hit the wall with a thud, the sound louder than it should have been in Ross’ ears.

Adrenaline seemed to be pumping through his veins, causing his breathing to be heavy and his body to feel this sort of need to break stuff. To damage everything he can, as if it could repair himself. He knew it wouldn’t, he was smarter than that. Smarter than Alex who was probably home destroying anything he could get his hands on. Despite this, he doesn’t stop. He chucks everything, bundling up the disgusting comforter and chucking it at the lamp, making it topple to the ground with a thud. The small TV on the crappy wardrobe was gone within moments as well, landing on the floor with a sickening sound of grass breaking.

“FUCK EVERYTHING!”

He stood there seething, standing there realizing that he was being a baby. He needed to suck it up, it was his job. He was always the responsible one, always had to be to avoid childish accidents that would lead to injuries (both physically and mentally).

Within moments he was gone, sprinting out of the motel with his keys clenched in his fist and sprinting towards his old car. Water poured on him from above, the cold droplets landing on his clothes and making everything seem to go slower, to be moving so much slower than possible and further frustrating him.

By the time he was in the car, he felt like he was going to destroy anything he touched- like he needed to destroy everything he touched in order to calm himself down. Before long he was speeding away from the motel, towards his shared flat with his boyfriend.

_He would fix this._

_It would be better._

_It would be fine._

_It always was._

~~~

He sprinted up towards the door of his flat, his body suddenly feeling drained and tired. He felt sore all over, not just his muscles- but everything. He felt useless, he felt like he had already been used and that there wasn’t much left for him to do but be the glue that held everything together.

He fumbled with the keys, getting out the one that opened the flat door and shoving it in immediately, irritated when he found the door was already unlocked and he was just wasting time that could be used to fix everything.

He pushed it open with way too much force, sending it towards the wall and hitting it with a loud thud.

“ALEX,” he called.

His voice echoed through the house, empty and unanswered as he stood warily in the doorway. It didn’t even sound right- his voice. It sounded so sad, so broken… like a guitar with one string cut. It was the one string that was rarely used in the song, and so everything was alright except for that one moment when the guitarists fingers strummed that string. In that one instant you could just tell something was off.

“ALEX I’M BACK. I’M SORRY, LOVE?”

He walked through the house, everything so dark and depressing. Shadows were cast over the walls, somber shadows that pulled at Ross’ mental stability. Where was the brightness? Where was the light that was supposed to fix everything?

He expected the mess. He expected the broken bottles and furniture. He expected to see the lamp knocked over and to see Smith’s iPad strewn across the floor without a care. He expected to see a couple broken picture frames, and he expected the kitchenware to be shattered on the tile floor.

Ross navigated through the house, checking every room and seeing them in a similar state- completely and utterly ruined. It looked like a tornado came through their home, trashing only the most important and fragile things.

For some reason he paused at the last door, his hand hovering over the doorknob to their bedroom. He was shaking, he could feel his muscles tense and his body feel like it was about to give out. He could feel his lungs, his heart, his stomach twisting and retracting into small little things as he stood outside the door.

“Baby? I-I-I am here… I’ll f-fi-ix it,” he whimpered, turning the doorknob and letting the door swing open.

There was an initial moment of shock, an initial moment of cold and bitterness that seemed to run through his body. It seemed to numb him, making nothing work properly and sending him to his knees.

The bedroom was untouched, looking exactly as it did this morning. The bed was still unmade, the hamper overflowing with dirty clothes both of them were too lazy to wash. Ross’ tablet still sat on the bedside table, plugged into the wall. Smith’s laptop sat on the bed, his screen saver a picture of both of them that seemed to be taken forever ago.

The only thing… the only thing that changed… the only thing that caused Ross to let out a strangled scream. To make the usually calm man pound his fists on the floor with a burst of anger and sadness as he sobbed loudly. Tears no longer fell from his cheeks, only the screams from his mouth could really show how he felt.

Above the bed, maybe only a couple inches above the sheets, a body hung. The rope was tied to the fan, connected to the stubbled pale neck of a man that Ross had somehow learned to love. He was still wearing his iconic burgundy shirt, but wore jeans instead of chino shorts. His skin was pale, almost a blue color, and his head hung backwards. He looked like a doll, his body unmoving and unable to support it’s own weight. Despite this, he looked peaceful, his usually beautiful blue eyes closed tight.

~~~

“STOPPIT GOD DAMMIT! GO AWAY YOU BASTARD,” Ross screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice only coming out as a croak, as a reminiscent of his old voice that used to bring joy to thousands of people.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He felt so weak, so tired. He was just so done with himself and his life and everything. His body screamed with pain, filled with a soreness that accompanied holding up such weight for so long.

His head hurt constantly, a constant buzz of noise and a constant feeling of pressure on his brain. He wasn’t even half the man he used to be. He was so different, not even looking like he used to. His facial hair had grown, much too long to be considered attractive, even to the fangirls that had thought it looked amazing. His face, his whole body was a pasty white as a result of not touching the sunlight in months.

The noises hadn’t stopped since he died. The noises, the movement, the constant feeling of being watched and touched and in contact with something that he couldn’t see or even touch back. It was a one-sided loneliness that he couldn’t seem to shake.

Nobody came to visit anymore. Nobody sent flowers, or food, or anything. Not that he needed it. He hadn’t eaten food in a day, his stomach growling and begging for something to fill it up. His tongue was dry, yet he kept dragging it over his chapped lips that only seemed to make it worse.

He felt miserable, running around and screaming like an idiot at any little sound he heard, or any little thing he saw.

He _KNEW_ it was him. He knew it was him trying to do hurt him even more than he already did, to break him down to nothing. Hadn’t he done enough?

This time, though, it had gone too far. It had triggered something that made Ross scream in peril, that made the dark haired man with his pretty sea glass eyes dump the whole container of pills into his fist. It made him take them all, swallow them one by one until they were gone.

It was fine at first, only a slight drowsiness. He felt himself slowly being lifted up, like whatever had been holding him down let up. He was like a balloon with a back of pebbles tied to the string. With every slow second, another pebble was let out, allowing him to float higher and higher.

He could finally breath again, or maybe it was the need to breath slowly becoming less and less useful. He could finally talk again, his throat feeling moist and his tongue wet enough to drag across his lips and satisfy the thin layer of skin there. His voice sounded familiar, like something he missed. And within moments, the darkness that had been a filer over his eyes was lifted. Everything was colorful, the whole apartment he was in suddenly had bright colors and seemed happy.

He smiled for the first time in months, he laughed for the first time in months. He looked down at his hands, not even surprised at the slightly translucent look of his flesh. He could hear the birds chirping outside, he could hear the cars passing by unknowing of what had just occurred inside the flat that his corpse now occupied.

The happiness was only interrupted by the sound of sobbing. He turned, looking almost pitifully at the sight before him. It was Smith, it was unmistakably Alex Smith, kneeled over Ross’ now ice-cold corpse. He sobbed quietly, slurring apologies and words of begging for him to get back up.

Ross smiled, slowly walking forward and kneeling down next to the redhead. He placed a comforting hand on Alex’s shoulder, surprised that he could feel a sort of warmth and muscle under his hand.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice airy soft and smooth.

He could feel Alex tense under his touch, pausing and taking a deep shuddering breath before turning his head. Ross smiled, looking into Alex’s noticeably bluer eyes, the pupils gone and replaced with a white fog which clouded the iris.

“Ross,” he rasped, looking back at Ross with a disbelief.

“Yes?”

There was a single beat, a single moment where both of them were frozen with a silent thank you for whatever allowed them to be together at that very moment. Then, it was just skin on skin contact. It was Ross feeling the somehow solid warmth of Alex’s body against his own, his strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulling him close.

“I am s-s-s-so sorry,” Alex sobbed, tears rolling down his cheeks and onto Ross’ shoulder. His face was buried into the crook of his neck, leaving shaky and apologetic kisses onto his skin.

“It’s o-okay. W-we are okay. Everything is okay,” Ross whispered, his own hands holding onto the redheads head, holding it closer and pulling mouth against his neck.


End file.
